The Price of Living
by Darktales
Summary: Catching up to the younger boy outside the run down biker bar, Dean reached out with his hand, stopping when he saw a brief flash of fear on Sam’s face. “I’m sorry,” he offered. It was pathetic but he had nothing else to offer. Chapter 2 is up!
1. Chapter 1

**Mature themes and references made to non-graphic/non-consensual sex. **

**The Price of Living**

The man held the knife to Dean's throat but his eyes stayed on Sam.

"What will you do to keep your brother?" he asked, his dark eyes appraising the young man standing in front of him.

"Anything," Sam said, holding the gaze though a shiver ran through his body.

The man grinned lewdly. "Okay," he agreed and nodded to his two friends. They took his place holding Dean, the knife bit into the hunter's soft flesh in warning when he tried to make a break for it.

"No, Sammy," he gasped, terrified of what this man might want.

The man moved to stand in front of Sam and then nodded. "Back room." He turned and walked away, indicating for the youngest Winchester to follow him.

Sam exchanged a long look with Dean and then left.

The men holding him never once spoke a word.

Two hours later the man came out of the back room, his face flushed and his shirt undone. He moved towards Dean and light a cigarette, blowing smoke in his face.

"Your brother," he grinned, "Damn fine piece of ass."

Dean lunged at him but couldn't break free. "I'll kill you," he vowed.

The man just laughed. "I doubt it," and then tipped his head towards Dean's captors. The young hunter felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. He was out cold before he hit the ground.

"Dean?" someone was shaking him. "Dean? C'mon man, wake up."

Sammy…

As memory slammed into Dean he lurched up, his head pounding and the world swirling. Crouching beside him, his face a mottled mess of bruises was his younger brother.

"Oh God, Sammy," Dean clutched desperately at his brother, forcing his eyes to focus on Sam's face. "Are you… are you okay?"

Sam offered a weak smile and pulled away. "I'm okay." Was all he said.

The man's words came back to haunt him and he swallowed hard wanting to ask but being afraid of knowing.

The younger hunter stood stiffly and then extended a hand down to him. "Can you stand?"

Dean couldn't find the words to ask as he accepted the extended hand and was pulled slowly to his feet. He used his brother to steady himself, noticing, even in his own tempestuous state that the younger man was trembling badly.

"Sammy," he forced himself to ask, "Did he… ah… he said…" the words fought him. Steeling his breath he just blurted out, "Did he rape you?"

The younger man flinched and pulled away, his eyes hooded as they darted to look anywhere but at Dean. It was more of an answer than the older man could stand. Guilt consumed him. Sam never wanted to stop at this fucking bar. Sam begged him not to try and hustle these guys. Sam –

Sam had been raped because Dean was too proud and stubborn to listen to him.

"Oh Sam," his voice was anguished.

"Dean," Sam finally looked at him and Dean inhaled sharply as he realized that the man had badly used him, "it's okay."

"What the fuck?" Dean was shocked, his own headache forgotten. "How can you say its okay?"

The younger man shrugged. "It was a small price to pay."

Dean shook his head in denial. "No," he insisted. "How can you say that?"

"Because," Sam sighed and licked gingerly at his split lip, "the cost of losing you would have been worse."

And then before Dean could say anything, his brother turned and moved stiffly towards the exit. Shaken to the core, the older man moved slowly, his breath hitching as he realized what his brother had done for him.

Sam had said on more than one occasion that he would die for Dean. And in a way, he had.

Catching up the younger boy outside the run down biker bar, Dean reached out with his hand, stopping when he saw a brief flash of fear on Sam's face. "I'm sorry," he offered. It was pathetic but he had nothing else to offer.

"I know."

Sam sighed heavily, "please Dean," he asked, "Can we just never mention this?"

Dean frowned as he shook his head slightly. "We can't, Sammy. Not this. You need to be checked out – that bastard might have -"

Sam snorted and pulled open the Impala passenger door. "The bastard wore a condom," he said softly and then gingerly slid into the car.

The other hunter felt like he had been sucker punched.

"What can I do to make this better?" it was a hollow offering, but heartfelt nevertheless.

He saw his brother's head drop.

"Drive Dean. Just drive. Get me the fuck out of here."

Sam never had to ask twice.

They didn't go after the man who had hurt Sam but from this time on if Sammy said 'no,' Dean listened.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**This was supposed to be a one shot but then I rewatched 'Asylum' last night and started thinking about things. Please let me know what you think.**

**The Price of Living**

Chapter 2

Dean was still pissed off. Pissed off and no little hurt. The little brother he loved and protected all his life had turned on him; shooting him a chest full of rock salt and then firing a, thankfully, unloaded gun at Dean. Four times.

Sure Dean had given him the gun and then ordered him to fire but still he had hoped Sam wouldn't. And that somehow his brother would have been able to break the stranglehold the evil spirit had on Sam's mind.

Really it was rather unfair of him to think that or force Sam into the position, but hindsight is twenty-twenty and Dean was still pissed.

They had driven for six hours now in complete silence. Not that Sam didn't try to talk – the kid obviously wanted to get the guilt off his chest – but Dean didn't want to hear it. He wasn't willing to forgive yet so he just cut Sam off whenever the younger hunter started to say something and inhaled his pain and feelings of betrayal; pulling them close around him like a hot blanket on a cold night. He nursed his pain and shut out his emotionally wounded brother.

It was dark when they pulled into a cheap roadside motel. Sam was out of the car before Dean had come to a complete stop and halfway to the small office to get them a room before the older man put the gear in Park.

"Prick," he managed to the empty car, bristling at his brother for not bothering to wait.

Sam was gone for a seemingly long time and Dean leaned his head back against the seat and gingerly rubbed his chest. _What was taking his brother so long?_ He just had to go in and get them one lousy room.

--------------------

With a start, Dean sat up in the seat, stifling a groan as he realized he had fallen asleep in the car waiting for Sam to get back. Glancing at the time, he saw it was almost twenty five minutes since his brother had left.

"What the hell is taking him so long?" he grumbled, entertaining the idea that Sam might have already gotten a room but had left Dean sleeping in the car. It would fit in with how much he hated his brother – and then Dean shook his head and dismissed the mean thought. That wasn't fair.

A hint of worry pinged, and Dean stifled a groan. He was going to have to go and see what was keeping the kid. With the way their day had gone, it wouldn't surprise him if the motel had somehow gotten wind of whatever bogus credit card Sam was using and he was, now, inside waiting for the police.

"Stupid manager, probably even has a gun," he groused shoving at the car door and painfully pulling himself out of the seat. He was halfway to the office when the door swung open and Sam hurried towards him. "About fucking time," he growled, turning back towards the car.

"We're not staying here," Sam said, not giving his brother a glance. Instead he opened the passenger side and got into the seat.

"What?" Dean was confused. "Why not?" He glanced up at the motel's neon sign. It said 'VACANCY'.

"Dean, just drive, or I can if you're too tired," Sam hurried, having some trouble getting his seat belt clicked into place.

"Sam?" the older man frowned as he leaned over and glanced in at his brother. What the hell was going on? Sam refused to meet his eyes but he could see the slight tremors that were running through the younger man's body. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, all right?" Sam barked, still not looking up. "Just drive, Dean. For once in your fucking life, can you just listen to me?"

Dean was taken back by the outburst and while it bristled at his own barely controlled emotion, he just pursed his lips, got into the driver's seat, started the car and pulled away from the motel. It was only when they were finally a good five or six miles away that he heard Sam let out a shuddering breath.

"Okay," he started coldly, "you want to tell me what that was about?"

"No," was the only answer he got as Sam turned his face to the window.

The older man huffed but before he could say anything his brother added. "Just drop it. I won't try to talk about the asylum anymore if you just let this go."

Something prickled at the back of his neck and Dean pulled over. He twisted in the seat to look at his brother, his worry intensified by the bargain his brother was trying to make.

Sam glanced at him briefly but it was enough for the older man to see how pale his brother was; pale and badly shook up.

"What happened?" Dean asked quietly and his brother snorted:

"When? Today or just now?"

Dean narrowed his eyes and Sam sighed heavily. "I'll tell you what happened. I have had the absolute WORST day of my life. Hands down." The older man felt his stomach start to twist in knots. To say that what happened today was the worse day was saying a lot, coming from Sam. Dean had thought the night Jessica died was Sam's worse day. Apparently not anymore.

The older hunter felt a tentacle of guilt as he got a moment of clarity about how hard this must be on Sam too. He wasn't the only one betrayed at the Asylum, and maybe, just maybe it was harder on Sam since he had to live with the knowledge that if that gun HAD been loaded, he would have murdered his own brother.

"Sam," Dean wasn't sure what he was going to say but he had to say something. However, Sam continued as if he hadn't even heard.

"It isn't bad enough that I shot my brother and almost killed him, being too weak to stop that asshole of a ghost from manipulating my feelings and taking control of my body, but then to see - " he voice suddenly cut off and he scrambled from the Impala, fell hard onto the roadside gravel and retched, expelling the meager contents of his stomach.

Dean moved as quickly as his aching body would allow, grimacing as he crouched down next to Sam. "You okay?" he asked, stupidly. What else could he say?

Sam sat back and looked at him, his pale face a mixture of tears, dirt and grief. "How could you, Dean? How could you think that was the real me talking back there? How could you believe I could ever hate you? Dean," the name was almost a sob, "I don't hate you, man. I never could… fuck… I sold my soul for you… doesn't that count for anything? Or have you forgotten?"

The older man actually staggered back, landing flat on his ass as his brother's broken words slamming into him a knife through his soul as he knew exactly what Sam was referring to.

_Oh God. How could he have forgotten? How could he think Sam hated him? Not when Sam was willing to give up what he had, to save Dean a mere three months earlier… Oh God._

The memory slammed into him, adding salt to his wounds:

"_What will you do to keep your brother?"_

"_Anything," Sam said._

_Two hours later the man came out of the back room, his face flushed and his shirt undone. He moved towards Dean and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke in his face._

"_Your brother," he grinned, "Damn fine piece of ass."_

Dean turned to look at his brother and he swallowed hard. "Oh Sammy," was all he could get out. He had so much he wanted to say but he didn't know how. The words seemed to tie his tongue as so many emotions and truths slammed into him at once.

"It's okay," his brother's soft acceptance broke Dean and he crawled the distance between them and gently wrapped his arms around Sam's shaking form. It hurt Dean's chest to do so, but to deny them this would have been a thousand times more painful.

So he sat on the side of the road, and held his brother; both of them wrapped in absolute grief and pain of a cathartic embrace.

An indistinguishable time later, they sat side by side with their backs against the Impala, their butts numb and their bodies chilled. Dean kept one arm loosely around Sam's shoulder, unwilling to let his brother completely go.

They had been quiet for a long time now.

"You wanna tell me what happened back there at the motel now?" Dean pressed softly. He needed to know.

Sam was quiet for a few long moments and just when his brother thought he wouldn't say anything, the younger man spoke. "He was there."

A chill curled around Dean's spine. "He? Who?"

The other man turned and gave his brother a long look. The answer to that question was found in their anguished depths and Dean was suddenly filled with an intense need to go back to that motel.

"That man…" he breathed heavily, "that bastard…" his voice cracked, "the guy who hurt you?" He couldn't say it. It hurt to hard to say.

Sam gave a slight nod and then glanced down.

Dean started to move to stand up but his brother grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Dean, don't," the older man opened his mouth to say something but Sam added, "Please."

"Sammy," Dean sat back down next to his brother. His voice was pleading, "You have to let me go."

"I can't," Sam whispered and when his brother continued to stare at him, he finished, his voice shaking. "I can't let you. I care more about you than what that… what he did to me. And I'm not going to let you do something stupid - "

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," Dean defended. Sam looked at him incredulously. "I don't call breaking every bone in that fuck's body, stupid. Not for what he did to you!"

"No, Dean," the younger pleaded softly. "Just let it go. Please. For me?"

_God-damnit_. Dean snorted in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. Damn Sam for asking him not to go after this guy, and damn Sammy for doing what he did to save Dean's life.

Dean froze. Suddenly the events at the asylum were tossed into a new light. While Dean had already realized that Sam didn't hate him – he only now realized that Sam had once again let some madman use his body to save Dean; because if Dean had been the one possessed, he would have killed Sam.

There would have been no way out of it. He would have known the gun he was carrying was unloaded, and so would have Ellicot once he got inside. And that would have meant that instead of firing blank rounds into his brother's chest, like Sam had done, Dean would have used his knife and slit his brother's throat.

And Dean would not have been able to live with what he had done. They would have both been dead.

Looking at this with a new perspective, Dean was overcome with an incredible amount of awe for his younger brother and the lengths Sam would go through for him.

For Sam he would let this guy, this time. But if they ever came across his path again, that guy would be looking at a very long hospital stay. Dean wouldn't kill him because killing someone like that was letting him get off too easy. But he sure as well would make him hurt.

"Did he hurt you?" Dean asked, shifting so he was crouching in front of his brother and looking him in the face.

"No," Sam shook his head, "he just gave me a scare."

Dean was unconvinced. "You were gone a long time," his voice was oddly gentle, "are you sure, he didn't do anything?"

This time Sam sighed and gave Dean a moot look. "He tried but I remembered your motto. Shoot first, ask questions later."

"You shot him?" Dean was shocked. He really must have been out of it not to hear the retort of a gun.

Sam just nodded, his smile smug. "Damn straight. He pulled out the small handgun he carried – the one not loaded with traditional shot. "With rock salt."

Dean looked at his brother, shocked. And then he started to laugh. Standing he reached down and helped Sam up, patting him gently on the back. "That's my boy."

Sam slid into the passenger seat, sighing in exhaustion. He glanced across at Dean as the older man started the car. When Dean looked at him, he asked. "Are we good, Dean? Really?"

A real smile spread across Dean's face, he nodded. "Yeah, Sammy. We're good."

And they were.

**The End – unless I come up with something else to add**


End file.
